I used to be certain.
Not just confident or comfortable, but certain in the way only a young person can be when handed a complete system and told it explains everything. I had been taught a theology that divided the world neatly into what was true and what was false. It came with answers for every question that mattered and, more importantly, it came with the assumption that those answers were final.
I didn’t question it. Why would I? It was what I had been given. It felt like truth because it felt like home.
When I listen to people argue about theology now, I often recognize something uncomfortably familiar. I hear the same tone of certainty I once had. I see people defending systems they didn’t build but have fully embraced. They assume their conclusions are objectively true and everything else is objectively wrong.
I understand that mindset because I once lived there.

In defense of the legal right to anonymous speech, political lies
Primitive instincts: Why do we ‘fall in love’ with politicians?
Prohibition was disaster with alcohol, still a disaster with other drugs
No matter who you are or what you’ve done, time is your enemy
In ’98, Ron Paul warned U.S. policy was leading to terrorist attacks
I wasn’t allowed to express need, so I’ve spent life traveling alone
Warning, Good Samaritans: Offering teens a ride is ‘disturbing the peace’
ObamaCare must fail in long term, but conservatives can’t stop it now
Whether it makes sense or not, I’ve learned to expect miracles